A Second Life
by Oberon Sexton
Summary: Ned Stark has endured much grief in his young life, the loss of a family, the loss of his home. But he has been granted the chance to begin again in a foreign land. AU: Lyanna dies at Harrenhall before Rhaegar can abscond with her and everything changes for the Quiet Wolf.
1. Chapter 1

**So, this came about during a Jet lag induced state on a return flight from Spain. It's a little different from my usual stuff, but the idea was persistent and I needed something to keep my sane during the 10 hour flight. Let me know what you think!**

There was an unusual chill in the air around Riverrun. The wind seemed to carry it from the North, a breeze with a sharp bite that cut straight to the bone of any unfortunate soul who found themselves exposed. The various farmers and fishermen who toiled away in the spaces that surrounded the ancient Tully home were certain to be threatened by it and any omen it may have foretold, a common thing for the peasants, prone as they were to the typical superstitions that ruled their meagre lives.

Jon Arryn, looking out over the Red Fork river from the window of Hoster Tully's solar, couldn't care less. He rarely gave thought to any world beyond the one which he currently inhabited, and even then only when he needed to uphold tradition for his more pious bannermen. In many ways he was not a deeply religious man, but even he could not help but wonder why such a sudden bout of tragedy could strike people so utterly undeserving of it. The Starks had been friends of his for nigh on twenty years and it seemed that tragedy fell upon them almost as often as the snows that littered their homeland. _Perhaps they are cursed_...

Hoster Tully picked up a cup of wine that a servant had left on his oak desk, then took a thoughtful and irritatingly loud sip, before sitting back in his seat. He observed the furrowed brow of his guest with affection and sympathy. "Alright Jon, you've been brooding long enough. Even _my_ considerable talents as a host have their limits. What's troubling you?"

Jon's mind was elsewhere, trying to muscle out the best possible way to explain what had recently come to his attention. With a deep sigh, he decided to simply cut to the heart of the matter. "It's about Rickard,"

"Ah," Hoster sobered at once. "What's happened now?" He took another sip of wine before glancing around at the parchments that littered his desk, "Cat hasn't sent word of anything amiss..."

"I wouldn't have expected her to," Jon replied quietly. "It's more of a personal matter between Rickard and one of his sons," he raised a hand to silence Hoster's protest, "It's not Brandon, if that's what you're concerned about. No, I'm talking about Eddard , the lad I've been fostering at the Vale."

There was a pause and Hoster regarded him curiously for a moment before a look of sympathy settled over the Tully's face. Silently judging Jon's soft heart. "It's not easy to raise children. The Seven know I've had my fair share of struggles, but really it's just about taking them to task. What did the lad do to upset Rickard?"

Jon looked him coldly in the eye. " If you knew Ned, you wouldn't be so quick to assume that he was the cause of the dispute. He's spent his life honouring his house and his duty to his father, but now..." He gave a sign." Now the lad has found himself in love and contrary as that might be to Rickard's ambitions, Ned won't back down."

A frown settled across Hoster's face. "It is the duty of every good son to obey their father,Jon. You know the words of my House, 'Family, Duty, Honour.' There is no reason why young Stark should shirk his duties, not when his father and liege gives him a command." He grimaced, and waved the argument away. "But I can tell that this is bothering you so get it off your chest."

"It started at that damned Tourney," Jon said, feeling twice his age. " Before it went to tragedy, before Lyanna Stark got herself killed trying to play at being a Tourney knight, Ned must have met this girl, one of Princess Elia's own ladies in waiting. I won't get into the details of the courtship, but the boy assures me that the they're quite in love and has resolved to marry her."

Hoster scratched at the red stubble on his jaw. "A lady from court?" He smirked at the notion. "I applaud the lad for his ambition."

"Yes, well Rickard doesn't share your enthusiasm," grumbled Jon. "He was hoping to have a match found in the Westerlands, or perhaps in the Reach to compensate for not being able to join his House with the Baratheons. They had an argument within my very own keep, Hoster, and I bore witness to the full and ugly truth of it. Things were said that night that I fear may not be unsaid and neither Stark has spoken to each other since. Rickard made it quite clear that if Ned went through with his marriage that he would no longer be welcome in the North." He rubbed at the ridge of his nose in weariness. "Now it is a conflict between father and son. My old friend or the boy I love as a son...which am I to choose?"

The Lord of Riverrun sat in contemplation for a time, his face guarded from the world. Even as he finally spoke, which was slow and considerate, his expression did not change. "Do you think there is any chance of convincing the lad to change his mind on this business with the girl? Boys that age think with their cock more often than their brains."

Jon shook his head with conviction. "Ned Stark is not like that at all. He's intelligent and somber in every matter of life, including such as that. In truth I think the boy worships honour as a god more than he does any Weirwood. No. When he says that he feels for this girl, I do not take his words lightly."

"And yet," needled Hoster, "You still chastise yourself for not supporting Rickard in this matter."

"I grieve for Rickard and all that he has lost. To lose his wife and to raise his children without her was burden few would have been able to take on as well as he did, but to lose a daughter as well, just when her life was starting?" Jon shook his head mournfully. "It is a cruel fate, and made the man all the harder towards the world for it. His grief and the grief his son share are deeply felt things. This conflict is born from that and if he is not careful he might lose yet another child."

There was a whirlwind inside of Hoster's blue eyes, an old pain briefly flaring up again. "I have never lost a grown child, but I do know what it is to lose a wife. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have Cat to help with the little ones back then."

"But you survived," Jon insisted. "You have three children and from what I've heard, a grandchild on the way. Life goes on. Rickard is just making it worse for himself."

Hoster frowned. "And what will happen if you side Rickard and he does disown this boy?"

"He'll have to go begging as Hedge Knight," Jon said brutally. "None of the Northern Lords would dare go against their liege by taking him in and even the Dornish wouldn't accept a penniless knight amongst their ranks, especially not with a family as famed as House Dayne. He is a good and sensible lad, but he has too much honour for his own good. I fear that he would not last long amongst the thieves and murderers that haunt the roads and villages of the South. Perhaps he could get a position with a sellsword company, though how long someone of Ned's integrity would last amongst such company as that I couldn't tell you." Jon looked defensively into the clear blue, comprehending eyes of the Lord of Riverrun. " Do you see my point, Hoster? If I go with Rickard on this I'd be throwing away this boy's life, but if I side with him I'd most certainly losing a friend and creating an enemy with the North."

Hoster Tully sat back. He looked out of the window and sipped thoughtfully on his wine. He liked Jon Arryn, and while he was mistrustful of the young, he respected Jon's opinion enough to gain some measure of sympathy for the young Stark. Letting out a deep sigh he turned back to Jon with a weary look. "You should help the boy in whatever way you can. I don't know what's to be done about it, but my advice would be that you follow your instincts. This lad is like a son to you, that's clear enough. Be a father to him."

There was a certain beauty about the Vale that stood out as wholly unique in the Seven Kingdoms. Ned Stark was not a native to the place, yet it had served as his home for years and despite the pull of the North ever present in his blood, not even Winterfell could compare to the vast spectacle of the mountainous landscape that rolled out before. When standing at the Eyrie it was as if one was at the top of the world, looking down as only birds and the dragons of old could.

Until recently Ned Stark had been oblivious to all notions of worldly beauty and the appreciation one could experience from having gazed at them. But that had all changed. He now took the time to keep such things in his mind, to retain the details of the beautiful places around him that had given him so much joy in the last few years of his life. The cause of this new way of thinking was twofold; first, he knew that his time at the Vale was very likely to be at its end and that once Jon had finished settling in from his trip to Riverrun Ned would be forced to either return to Winterfell or make his way south as an exile. The second reason for his changed state of mind was at once much simpler and a thousand times more complicated. He had fallen in love.

He had met Ashara during the most painful time of his life, the Tourney of Harrenhall where all of the dominating forces of his life seemed to collide and merge together in a tempest. His family had come down, preparing for Brandon's wedding to Catelyn Tully and to better acquaint Lyanna with Ned's best friend Robert Baratheon in light of their betrothal. They were joined by the family of sorts Ned had made amongst the Knights of the Vale and the Arryn household as everyone across the Kingdoms gathered to see Lord Whent's display of opulence. The royal family had even deigned to grace the event with their presence, and with them came the most beautiful woman Ned had ever seen. It had been at his older brother's prodding and meddling that Ned was actually introduced to the beautiful Violet-eyed Dornish girl that accompanied Princess Elia. She was interesting and sparky, with a fierce confidence and surety that Ned had rarely seen before. Though he had certainly tripped over his words, she seemed interested in what he had to say, her eyes were filled with an expression of honesty that intrigued him to no end. It had been a revelation, as if he had gone through life with his eyes closed and his ears covered to the true beauty of the world. Even as he was struck with unimaginable grief, Ashara's love had been the thing that saved him from drowning in his misery.

With a deep breath Ned turned and made for the warmth of the castle. A knight, resting the knobby stumps of his fingers on the pommel of his sword, gave him a half-hearted smile as he approached. "Lord Arryn wishes to see you in his solar, lad. He's been asking everywhere for you."

"Thank you, Ser."

He strode unhurriedly to Jon's solar, taking his time admire and memorise all the little quirks of the Eyrie for it was surely to be his last time seeing them. He was on his way up the stairs when he caught one of the serving girls making her way down, a young woman named Becca. She looked up at him with red rimmed eyes and said calmly, "Lord Jon is waiting for you Ned, best not to keep him waiting."

"Is everything alright?" He asked in a soft voice full of concern. "Has something happened?"

Becca bit down on her lower lip. "I asked Lord Jon permission to leave his service and go south, so that I might take my Mya to Storm's End with Robert when he gets sent away." Her eyes glittered with more unshed tears. "He refused."

Ned nodded, realising at once what had happened. Becca had been one of the many girls Robert had taken a liking to, but unlike the others she had born him a bastard daughter and seemed convinced that she could follow Robert around and live as his mistress. Ned felt a swell of pity for her; she was a gentle woman who treated others with nothing but kindness, and she was chasing a fool's hope in thinking that she could find a better life with Robert.

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You needn't worry, Robert won't be going anywhere. It is me that Jon is angry with. Robert's place here will be secure."

Becca looked up at him with a sad smile. "I'm sure you'll be fine too. If you can keep yourself looking presentable at least," she went about wiping the flakes of snow off his cloak and he docilely allowed her to smooth out his hair that had become a mess from the mountain winds. She gave him a final smile before going on her way.

When he finally came to Jon's solar Ned squared his shoulders and looked at the oak door, behind which he had spent so much of his time looking for wisdom and advice. Tentatively he reached forward, took a breath, and opened the door. Jon was sitting at his desk as usual, his head resting in one hand as he read some letter. He looked exhausted from his travels, and his desk was stacked with parchment and letters he had yet to open. His blue eyes lifted from the desk up and to Ned, softening slightly.

"Ah, Eddard," he said in a light voice. "Please, come sit down. We have much to discuss."

Ned took his usual seat in the chair across from his mentor, suddenly feeling like a boy in his lessons tried to read something in the old Vale lord's face, but it was as impassive as the cold stone of the wall behind him.

"Do you know why I wanted to speak with you?" He asked, softly.

"I could guess," Ned took a breath. "You're sending me back to my father. In which case, I refuse. "

The old man's brows drew together as his face became a stern frown. "And what exactly would you do then? In this world second sons are entirely dependent on the grace of their fathers, and if you disobey Lord Rickard there will be none coming your way. You'd have to live on the road as hedge knight or a common sellsword. You'd likely die penniless in a ditch somewhere." He looked at Ned carefully. "Is this Dayne girl worth it?"

Ned did not hesitate for an instant. "Yes."

Jon's stern expression melted away at once, replaced by a wide smile that he seemed unable or unwilling to suppress. "That's exactly what I needed to hear. I won't have to worry about my gold going to waste."

Eddard was dumbfounded, and a swell of confusion passed through him. "I...I don't understand?"

"I would be a heartless man to force you to return North, and a foolish one if you let you run off on your own without any thought of the consequences." Jon leant forward on his desk. "I don't agree with your father, but I cannot openly defy him in the matter of his own son." He held up a hand to silence Ned's concern. "But, that has not stopped me from making other arrangements for you. I have spoken with Lady Ashara's older brother and we've reached a compromise, which mostly came from the young lady singing your praises and me verifying them. In any case you'll be leaving for Dorne on the morrow."

"Dorne?" Ned asked in a faint voice.

"Yes. I can't keep you here, as much as I'd like to. Your father would take it as a slight and the last thing the Vale needs is a damned conflict with the whole of the Lord Dayne is willing to host you at Starfall until such time that a keep of your own can be built." Jon shrugged artlessly. "When that will happen, I can't say. You'll be living with House Dayne for at least a year, and as such I expect you to behave with the utmost respect towards them. It'll be my good name on the line as well as your own."

Ned sat in stunned silence, taking the news in. He felt his heart thumping, the blood rushing to tips of his fingers. His thoughts raced as he dissected the news, trying to make sense through the pure joy and excitement he felt. Something came to him, a glaring fact that threatened to extinguish his happiness. "I haven't the coin to possibly repay them. A Keep would not come cheap."

Jon did something Ned had never seen him do before, he blushed in embarrassment. "You needn't worry," he gave a weak laugh. "I took care of the matter."

"Jon," he frowned in shame and guilt. "This isn't a small matter...you shouldn't have done that."

"Listen here Ned, if you were in the North it would be your father's duty to provide you and your new bride with a home to live in. I know that I will not replace your father, but..." The Warden of the East's voice caught slightly, his eyes gaining a glassy sheen. "To me you have come to be like...the son I never had. You and Robert both have brought me more happiness than you can ever know, and for an old man without any family...that is something worth far more than gold or silver."

Ned struggled, trying desperately to hold back tears that we're building and threatening to spill forth. What this man was doing for him was one of, if not the greatest act of kindness he had ever received. "Thank you, Jon," he croaked out.

Before Jon could respond the doors of the solar swung open and heavy boots stamped across the stone floor as Robert marched up to the desk. The Lord of Storm's End was young but had already inherited the height and build that his family were well known for. His deep blue eyes were ablaze, his large Baratheon jaw jutted out in rage as he regarded Jon.

"I won't let you do it," he declared in a booming voice, slapping a hand on Ned's shoulder. "If you're forcing Ned to leave then I'm going too! He can come live with me at Storm's End, and to the Seven Hells with anyone who tries to say otherwise!"

Jon blinked in stunned surprise for a moment, looking up at the second of his foster sons before breaking out into a sharp bark of laughter. The old man's whole body shook with trembling waves from the effort of it. Robert looked confused, and turned to Ned for help.

"I'm not being forced to go back North, Robert," he explained. "Jon is sending me to Dorne, to get married. It's all been arranged...I'll be with House Dayne until I can build a keep of my own. Ned smiled up at his friend. "He's helping me Robert."

The Baratheon looked shocked for a moment before his face quickly took on a sterner expression, as if he had just been informed that he was being sent to fight a war against a horde of Wildlings. "Right, well. Dorne...When do we leave?"

Jon Arryn frowned. " _We_?"

"Aye, I'd not miss my friend's wedding for anything," Robert slapped Ned's shoulder again. "Besides, think of all the Dornish beauties I'd be missing out on. No, I'm going with Ned and that's final. It'll be a grand adventure that they'll be talking about in every tavern across the realm."

The Lord of the Eyrie sat back in astonishment before throwing his hands in the air. "Fine, you can go too. But for the love of the gods stay out of trouble." He looked pointedly at Ned. "And just remember, it's not every day that you get to start a new life."


	2. Starfall

**A/N: Massive, massive, thanks to everyone who left a review, they keep me inspired!**

 **EDDARD**

Ned had the worst headache of his life. In fact, he found it hard to think, difficult to concentrate, almost impossible to understand what the people around him were saying. Whilst the accented twang of the Dornish moved at a faster pace than what he was used to, it was not the reason for his lack of comprehension and bewildered state. Of that he had Robert Baratheon to blame.

At some point during the voyage from the Vale, Robert had decided that the best way to spend their week on a ship was to be stinking drunk. Ned had balked at first, wanting to keep his wits about him as they sailed down the Narrow Sea, yet had reluctantly agreed after hours of Robert speaking of nothing else. But the more he drank, the more his thoughts began to churn and his worries about his reception in Dorne grew, which in turn caused him to drink even more. _And look where that has gotten me._

He didn't want to admit it, but the secret truth was that Ned was anxious to see the new land in which he would be calling home, and to make an impression on the people he would be calling his family. With everything that had happened with his father after Lyanna's death and the feud that followed, Ned could not help but feel that he was more of a burden to the Daynes and that perhaps he was not worthy of Ashara. _You are just the unwanted second son of a House that is half a world away,_ a nagging voice insisted in the back of his mind. _Will they truly want you? Would you truly be able to find happiness in a home full of resentment?_ It was all Ned could do to smother the treacherous thoughts before they grew, drowning them with wine.

Which of course led to his current predicament, walking the streets of a small town just south of Starfall and struggling to haggle with the locals over the price of good horses. For all of Ned's hungover woes, Robert was faring little better. For every skin of wine that Ned consumed, Robert downed three, and after five solid days of nonstop drinking the Lord of Storm's End merely stood with a dull look in his eye and a hand on Ned's shoulder to help keep himself upright as the world passed him by.

Eventually Ned and Robert left the dealer's stable with two horses and a pack mule sold to them at an extortionate rate. When the price was coupled with the cost of food and water, Ned found that he had already spent a quarter of the personal savings that he had brought with him from the Vale and endeavoured to be wiser with his coin in future, at least until he was settled and could work towards earning more in service to Lord Dayne.

The sky was a brilliant blue; the sun was blazing overhead and as he rode out of the small town he turned his face towards it with closed eyes and let the light wash over him. It was still early in the morning and there was a gentle breeze kissing at his exposed skin, yet Ned still found himself bathed in sweat. Never before had he experienced heat such as this, and his pale northern skin was already starting to burn pink from the exposure. Ned rubbed at a patch of sunburnt skin dubiously.

"Damn it Ned," Robert complained from beside him. "You should have at least bought a bloody hat. At this rate I'll be handing over a charred corpse to Lady Dayne."

Ned gave him a weary smile. "I had better get used to it if I'm to live here," He shrugged. "Mayhaps I'll tan after a while."

Robert snorted at that. "Not bloody likely."

The two shared a laugh at that and rode on in silence for a time, enjoying the sights of the Dornish countryside. In truth it was mostly vast stretches of red sand that seemed angry and unforgiving, yet as they followed the great river upstream they were witness to a kind of beauty as life seemed to thrive all the more fiercely when otherwise surrounded by vast nothingness. In the far distance they could even see the great Red Mountains, something that was awe inspiring even to two young men who had spent time amongst mountainous terrain. _It is as different from the Vale as day to night._

They were granted the mercy of darkness when the sun went down and it seemed as if the whole world had suddenly shifted into the beginnings of a mild winter. As it grew colder, Ned felt himself grow more at home with the strange land he found himself in. Robert for his part made them a small fire and went about charring a fish he had caught from the river, seemingly oblivious to the change around him.

"Do you think it ever snows in Dorne?" Ned asked, gazing up at the starry night sky. "I wonder how this might look blanketed in snow."

Robert just laughed. "In all my years I've never heard of it snowing this far south, even in the longest of winters."

"It's …. strange."

Baratheon raised a brow. "You think it's strange that there's a place in the world that doesn't ever get as frosty as the North?" he gave another booming laugh. "Gods Ned, I hate to break this to you but they call it the North for a reason. Seven save you if you ever found yourself across the Narrow Sea!"

"It's just that I've never known a land like this," He looked at the expanse of desert that surrounded them. "It is a place that doesn't know winter. My House has warned of it's coming since men knew what winter was; it's a part of my very soul…. I wonder if that makes me useless to a land like this?"

Robert shook his head furiously and leaned in close. "That's just your damned nerves talking," his expression turned stern. "Half of the Houses in Dorne come from across the sea, river folk the lot of them. If those toad eaters can make it here, so can you."

Ned considered that for a moment, laughed to himself and then went to lay back, drifting to sleep with a faint smile upon his face.

They started out again just before dawn, making good time without the harsh sun bearing down on them. The morning sky was a beautiful purple and in the distance Starfall was becoming more and more apparent as they rode onwards. Robert had a comment for every little thing on the way, his hangover doing little to stop or slow his chatter. But Ned did not mind. His friend's bawdy conversation was of much help to keep his mind off the thousand worries that buzzed around his head.

"…So I spent the entire time throwing up every damned thing I'd eaten in the last week gone by. By the gods was I sick that day, but then I had to be. I couldn't have put up with my brothers without a little help from the wine." His chest rumbled with laughter at that for a brief moment before a shot of pain cut through him. "Though I'll tell you what, Ned, I don't think I've had it as bad as this one in a while." He rubbed at his chiselled jaw. "The taste of bile hasn't worked its way from my mouth yet."

Ned shook his head, trying to hold back his laughter. "That's what you get when you try to cure a hangover by following it up with two whole skins of wine."

"Bah," Robert waved the criticism away. "It's the hair of the dog that bit you, everyone knows that."

They continued on for a few more hours, mostly filling the time with casual chatter and observation of the landscape. It seemed the further north they went the more the land seemed marked where long dried rivers and streams had cut and shaped the hard soil. Ned had to wonder what the whole area looked like in the thousands of years before the Greenseers had smashed the arm of Dorne. _I should be mindful with how I voice such things,_ Ned silently chastised himself. _They'll think me some uncouth fool mentioning old legends._

Starfall came before them all at once. With its high walls and the vertical, almost blade-like structure it seemed to stab at the sky. Ned could almost imagine it as the hilt and blade held in the hand of some giant that had been buried underneath the Dornish sands. Even Robert seemed impressed, and he had once boasted to Ned of having been to the Red Keep. There were a few people in the fields before them, villagers talking amongst themselves near a well, exchanging what gossip they had and sharing laughter while their husbands and fathers worked the fields. To Ned's great surprise they did not seem overly concerned by the sight of two rough looking knights riding through their homeland and merely dipped their heads in a casual sign of respect before going back to their business.

The castle gates were opened for the two without either having to identify themselves and attendants were waiting to take their horses as they rode into the courtyard. Ned and Robert were both too tired, too hungover and too awestruck to really voice any form of objections as they were led towards the castle proper by a small retinue of knights bearing the white and lilac colours of Starfall. They entered through a high archway, the hall beyond dim and echoing as an ancient Sept, light filtering down in dusty columns and pooling on the marble floor. On their way they passed twin suits of old armour that stood as sentries at the final entrance to the heart of the castle. Ned paused for the slightest of moments to take in the full sight of them. The armour was well taken care of; Ned could see his reflection in the finely polished helm and the gold inlaid across the chestplate still looked as lustrous as anything he had ever seen. Behind the armour stood a pair of living knights, spears clenched within their hands and with an expression of focus writ across their stony faces. They made a silent exchange with the guardsmen that had brought Ned inside, and a handover of sorts occurred as the ones that greeted them seemed to melt away into the shadows and the two guards led them through the high doors and into the heart of Starfall.

The great hall of Starfall was a marble room the colour of cream and the centre dais looked almost as big as a market square. Behind the goliath seat of House Dayne lofty windows were left standing open, a keen breeze washing through and making the shooting star banners twitch and rustle against the stone walls. Several marble columns were decorated with carved depictions of ancient knights at battle; the Swords of the Morning throughout history and all their heroic deeds. The message that House Dayne had been the Kings of the Torrentine and born some of the greatest heroes Westeros had ever seen was hard to miss.

In the centre of the room sat the Lord of Starfall himself, Ulrick Dayne. He was not yet forty, but the man's comely features seemed prematurely aged; his once finely carved face was now gaunt, his dark hair already showed signs of greying at the sides. It was the look in the man's eyes that was most striking. His purple orbs held a heaviness to them that Ned had often seen in several old soldiers. At the base of the dais lurked a great shape, a fat-necked bear of a man who looked just as tall as Robert and twice as wide, his massive arms crossed before his chest knotted with muscle that looked as solid as stone. The expression he wore was one of grim caution, even as one of the guards approached to whisper in his ear. The man nodded once, raised his hand half an inch in dismissal, and turned to look up at his master.

"These are the ones who arrived from the sea, my lord," he called up at the figure, "Shall I take their weapons?"

"Weapons?" Ulrick's sharp voice echoed around the cavernous room. "No I don't think that will be necessary Qoren." Slowly the man raised himself up from his seat and descended down one step at a time in a purposeful motion until he and Ned were almost level, the faintest of smiles dancing across his gaunt face. "After all, we're to be family, are we not?"

Ned gave a respectful bow. "Lord Dayne," he said in his most reverent voice. "I must thank you for all that you have done for me, many others would not have been half so kind. I am in your debt and I am honoured to be able to serve you in any way I can."

"Don't give me too much credit," Ulrick Dayne gave a weary smile. "My brother Arthur is not the only member of House Dayne who knows how to wield a blade. Ashara would have had my head on a spike for all to see if I didn't at least consider the notion." He reached out and clasped Ned's hand. "Well done, by the way. Ashara has always been a passionate woman, but the way she talks about you is another thing entirely."

The young Stark blushed despite himself and felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest, so fast that he could feel it in the back of his throat. He recovered quickly and gestured to his friend, attempting to change the conversation. "My lord, allow me to introduce you to my friend Robert of the House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End."

Robert took the man's hand and shook it in his typically rough manner. "You've my compliments Lord Dayne, this a bloody good home you've got here, and don't think that what you're doing for my friend will be overlooked. Any friend of Ned is a friend of mine!"

"My…thanks, Lord Baratheon," Ulrick rubbed at his hand as he removed it from Robert's. "I'm pleased that such a… _mighty_ House as yours would consider my family friends. I know House Baratheon has not been such an ardent supporter of Dorne."

"Bah," Robert waved the notion away. "The past is the past. If a man spends his whole life looking at what went on before him then he can't leave anything for those that come after."

Lord Dayne nodded sagely in agreement. He was silent for a long moment before glancing heavy-lidded at the windows. "The day is almost done, and I can see that your travels have been difficult. I shall have my servants show you to your rooms, there you can bathe and rest. I'll have someone send for you when it is supper."

The man almost made to leave before Ned called out. "My lord, if it would not be too much trouble, I should like to see Ashara before anything else."

Ulrick regarded him silently for a moment. "I'm afraid my sister is not here. She has been away at the capitol tending to Princess Elia, though when she last wrote her retinue was moving through the Dornish Marches. I expect she should be here within a few days' time."

Ned tried and failed to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. "I see. Then I shall endeavour to know her home so that I might impress her upon her arrival."

"I'm sure she would like that," He gave Ned another tired smile before moving out of the chamber, his heavy and even footsteps echoing throughout as he vanished. Ned and Robert exchanged another hesitant glance before following the small crowd of servants that had seemingly sprung the shadows to serve them.

The chamber he was brought to was fairly large in size and had a certain level ornate decoration to it that indicated that he was not simply being relegated to a simple guest room. In truth Ned felt slightly uncomfortable with the lavish display after spending so much of his life alternating between the North and the Vale where such things were more modest. _I suppose I'll have to get used to southern living…_

He took the time alone to catch up on some rest, settling into a short dreamless sleep on the large bed that had been provided. His sleep lasted for perhaps an hour or two before he was woken by the soft knocking at his door and when he opened it he was greeted by several servants who went about bringing in a large tub and several buckets of warm water for his bath. Once that was seen to and he assured them that he needed no more assistance the servants filed out of the room and he went about washing off the grime and dust from his skin and hair. He relished the feel of warm water and felt some of the tension leave his muscles. The servants returned a half hour later and went about herding him down to a mostly empty chamber that held only a single large table covered in a variety of foods and several jugs of wine. At the end of the table, Lord Dayne waited, attended only by a cupbearer.

Though Ulrick Dayne wore a smile across his face it did not reach his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot and heavy with exhaustion. When he spoke it sounded as though he was out of breath. "Eddard, I hope that everything was to your satisfaction. Please, do be seated." He gestured at the food that littered the table. "Have whatever you like. The Cheese, in particular, is quite good."

Ned sat down in the offered seat to Ulrick's right, glancing at the empty seat across from him. "Should we not wait for Robert, my lord?"

"It seems your friend has already found himself better company than the likes of us for this evening," he gave a weak laugh. "He is a typical Baratheon I suppose."

Ned felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him and made to stand. "Forgive me, I shall speak to him at once-"

"-Never mind," Ulrick laid a hand on Ned's shoulder and gently urged him back into his seat. "If I am to be truthful, I arranged for our Stormlander to be preoccupied. Charming as he is, Robert Baratheon strikes me as the kind of man to be ruled by his emotions and I wouldn't want to cause a scene," he leaned in close. "What I want to discuss with you is better kept between family for the nonce."

The shrewd eyes of the Dornishman settled upon him and Ned's embarrassment was quickly forgotten and replaced by outright discomfort. "What do you mean, Lord Dayne?"

"Call me Ulrick, please," another deceptively weak smiles flashed. "We're brothers after all, or soon to be."

"Ulrick," Ned said, showing his palms. "I'm sorry but have I missed something? You of course know I'll be willing to help you and House Dayne, but that's hardly a secret we need to keep from Robert."

The Dornishman's eyes went to the food before him and went about pouring himself a bowl of stew from a pot sitting before he and Ned. Once he was finished he toyed with his spoon, tapping it softly against his bowl, his expression distant. "Did you know," he said after a moment, his chest rising and falling unevenly, "That Dorne has had more kings in its history than any region in Westeros? Of course there were many different kings outside of Dorne too. The Gardner kings, The Casterlys and from them the Lannisters, the line of Harren the Black, the Durrandons. The Starks in the North as you well know, and the Red Kings of the Dreadfort." He held up a single finger. "But, in Dorne, there was a time when every lord was a king. It was a land of kings. The Fowlers were the Kings of Stone and Sky, the minor Houses along the Greenblood were known to choose a High King from amongst their number. Yronwood still fashion themselves as the Bloodroyal. And even," he said with a breath that turned into a whispery wheeze, "even House Dayne were known as the Kings of Torrentine. So many kings in one place. You can imagine the chaos that caused." He filled another bowl of stew and pushed it towards Ned who took it hesitantly. "So you see, my northern friend, that Dorne was a very different place before Nymeria came along."

"The Rhoynar added their strength to House Martell," Ned replied diplomatically. "It unified Dorne under Sunspear."

The older man nodded thoughtfully as he ate his stew. "There are some," he spoke in between mouthfuls in a casual tone, as if discussing the weather, "who believe that there should be a return to the old ways. Not all embraced Nymeria."

 _So this is where we're going._ Ned sat to attention, wondering if he was being invited into a trap by the Dornishman. He took a mouthful of stew, swallowed and smiled. "Ulrick, these are matters for Maesters and men of standing within Dorne. I am merely a foreigner."

"But you are going to be living in this land," Ulrick Dayne was obviously displeased that his game of generalities had been avoided. "You will be living in my home, marrying into my family and crafting a life within my world. It is important that you know exactly what world that is."

Ned sat back in his seat, looking at Ulrick with guarded curiosity "Then tell me."

Ulrick's face underwent a curious change. His purple eyes lost their glitter and assumed an inward look and in an odd way, the whole face slumped into a deep melancholy. He let out one extended, shaky breath. "There are people in Dorne who wish to cast House Martell from their seat of power and see the return to the old ways, when Dorne was led by a king and not a prince. In truth I have only heard whispers of such talk and never from the same source, but it is there. It grows within the land like an infection slowly grows within a man's bowels and I fear it shall be equally harmful if left unattended."

"Do you have any names?" Ned asked quietly.

"Some," Ulrick admitted. "But I lack the proof to act upon them, and the Princess of Dorne is not long for this world. The entire situation is far too delicate to truly act upon, at least in the open; if I try and make any accusations they will only be denied and dismissed. I would find myself exposed and be seen as a target for this… _conspiracy_. Blood would be shed, and the young Prince Doran would find himself overwhelmed by an unstable rule plagued by sedition." Ulrick batted his hand, as if the thought was an annoying fly buzzing around his food. "No, I cannot risk action, lest I face my own destruction. If someone is to do something, it has to be an outsider."

Ned breathed in sharply. "Me," he said more to himself than anything else. "You want my help with this."

"No, Eddard," his breathing was becoming somewhat more laboured, the purple eyes looking the slightest bit strangled. "I _need_ your help for this. I need a man who can lead men in my stead, who can defend himself if he gets in trouble, and who can move about Dorne without too much suspicion."

"Come on, Ulrick," Ned said impatiently. "Every damned lord this side of the Red Mountains will know some foreigner is roaming about their land looking into their affairs. Besides, I've no mind for politics. I was trained to be a solider, to defend the lands of my older brother and nothing more!"

Ulrick was unhurried in his response, taking a moment to regain enough breath to speak. "All of that still applies here in Dorne. You will marry Ashara and I will become your older brother and it shall be my lands that you need to defend." He pointed a shaky finger at Ned. "I need a soldier, in that matter you are well trained. What you do not know; the perception and observational skills, these things can be taught with a little time and effort."

"I am not a good liar; I couldn't possibly serve in the way you want." He insisted, feel his frustration mount. "I am just not that kind of man."

The Dornishman took a deep drink of wine and levelled Ned with a benevolent gaze. "I would not ask you to lie. All I need from you is your eyes, your ears and the opinions that they create within your mind. Use these tools that the Gods have given you and then report back to me. Anything else I ask of you will entirely be within your skills as a soldier, this I swear on my honour."

Ned sat back in his chair, turning over what Ulrick had said in his mind. He didn't like it all, and he was dubious about his own skills for the task given how much honesty had been instilled upon him from a young age and his lack of experience when it came to the inner workings of politics. _Why can't the rest of world be as straightforward as the Lords of the North?_ He felt incredibly uncomfortable about the whole situation, yet Ned knew that he did indeed owe Ulrick for what he and Jon had done. _Dammit it all…_

"What would I need to do," Ned finally said after a long moment of silence. "If I were to agree to this?"

Ulrick's eyes softened again. "Once you and Ashara have wed, no doubt she will wish to show you the sights of Dorne, and perhaps even spend time at Sunspear and the Water Gardens. Princess Elia will most likely come to be with her mother as she passes, and Ashara will want to be there for her friend. I want you to stay close to her and report to me on anything and everything that you see there, with particular care for anything that might strike you as suspicious." He tapped his fingers against his empty bowl of stew. "Should anyone try to take advantage of House Martell's vulnerability then it would be the perfect time to act."

"And in the event of such an act?" Ned leaned in close. "How would you move on that information?"

"I would see that everyone involved, highborn and low, master or paid sword would die for their crimes." The smile on Ulrick's face turned into a grimace. "I would have all of the conspirators hanged from the walls of Sunspear for every man, woman and child in Dorne to see."

The sudden brutality shocked Ned. "Even in the North, we are not usually so harsh."

"People are loyal to the Starks in the North, a duty and love born from the harshness of your lands; here our blood runs hot. And besides, from what I have heard, there is a man behind this conspiracy that has taken up the mantle of one our most reviled figures. This man, whoever he is, has taken on the title of a monster that has plagued Dornish and foreigners alike for hundreds of years. This man must be put down as swiftly and brutally as possible before he destroys us all."

Ned looked into his host's eyes, seeing the spark of worry within them. "What does this man call himself?"

"The Vulture King."


	3. Sands

**A/N: Much like the first chapter, this is what you get whilst trying to write on a 9 hour flight from one side of the world to the other with crazy jet lag brain. To answer a few questions I've been getting, this story isn't a time travel one. Rather, the title and idea behind it is more of a metaphorical second life Ned has been given in this AU situation and what he'll make of it in the new setting of Dorne. Also, as I am back home again and with my travels well behind me I'm going to be updating a lot more frequently now, not only with this, but also my other current fic The Open Way. So those of you who might be worried that I've abandoned it, don't worry as I've already made a start on the next chapter for that.**

 **And finally, as always, massive thanks to everyone who reviewed the chapter. You guys keep me inspired!**

* * *

The river stretched away, fringed with by steep rocks and dripping greenery. To anyone coming in from the vast mass of scorching sands that surrounded the long and thin stretch of water, it would seem like a great wound of life cut into the belly of a red beast. A single man stood amongst the thickness of shrubs, his steely-eyed gaze moving along the horizon in search of the slightest disturbance. He was hindered in this task by the seemingly endless swarm of mosquitos that plagued him. Indeed, it seemed as if the air was visibly thick with them.

It was in such times as these when the man, Walter Sand, cursed his duty to the King. In the time that he spent in service to his new liege, Walter had found himself in all manner of unsavoury and uncomfortable places and with little thanks to show for the suffering he endured. But as always, whenever such thoughts entered his mind Walter always made sure to remind himself of the reasons for which he committed to his duty. Gratitude. Whilst he was aware that bastards were treated well in his homeland compared to the rest of the realm, Walter had spent his life dealing with the disadvantages that were placed upon him. His mother was a lady with her own keep and the comforts that brought with it. Comforts, that Walter had known but never truly experienced. He was kept in the household, he could hawk and hunt with the best of them and his swordsmanship was unmatched. He was educated just like any other child and made aware of the immense history of his bloodline. Yet all that did was remind him of the things he would never have, the name that was not his, the sigil that he could not wear. The Vulture King offered him more than the shadow of existence that was a bastard's lot. The King offered him a keep to call his own with men to fill its halls and defend to their dying breath. Walter had seen the home the King had promised, walked its stony battlements and dreamt of his future. In return he only needed to do one task whenever called upon, and after a full year of doing such a thing he had grown quite fond of it.

Walter was a hunter of men, and his prey was close by.

Despite the humidity, the insects, the general discomfort, Walter remained deathly still and was keenly aware of his surroundings. The various noises of the river, the buzzing of the bugs, the croaking of the toads. He listened to them all with fanatical attention. After the span of several heartbeats he finally heard a single, controlled cough. Walter dropped to one knee, his senses questing like the curious feelers of a crab. He waited several more heartbeats. When the cough was not repeated, he crept forwards on his stomach much like the lizards he had seen in the gardens of his youth.

His clothes were well and truly sullied by the time he reached what he believed to be the source of the sound. Several times he had to stop and lay flat on his stomach, completely unmoving and listening as hard as he could whenever anything in the wall of shrub was disturbed, agonising over each sound to try and differentiate from the common sounds of the wild and the unnatural noises made by a clumsy man. In a small clearing beside a stony stream of water and black mud, he saw the other man. He stopped his movements, and waited in the long grass like a tiger ready to pounce.

His prey was lying stretched out, his back supported by a muddy log. His armour had been hastily stripped away and his blue tunic had been torn in several places, the whole of the right side of his suit was blood upon which mosquitos already swarmed to feast upon. Dynnis Allyrion was the younger brother of the Lady of Godsgrace, and due to his past as an outspoken traditionalist with a known hatred of outsiders, the Vulture King had sent people to approach him with an offer of an alliance. Fool that the man was, he had refused. It was because of this refusal that Walter had been called upon to make an example of the man, and could now taste victory as he stared at the slowly spreading patch of blood.

Allyrion's face suddenly pointed, like a hound's, and life came back into his eyes. Walter could not immediately see what had stirred the wounded man back to life, but then something moved from the stream of water and a large snake slowly slithered its way through the mud towards the man. Walter watched with quiet fascination, guessing the snake to be one of the common water dwelling types, attracted by the smell of blood. It was perhaps four feet long and from what Walter could recall from his lessons, harmless to men. A local of the area, he had to assume that Allyrion was aware of this fact as well.

A bead of sweat rolled down the wounded man's face, yet his expression did not change, even as the snake drew closer. His right hand slowly crawled to a dagger at his side, moving one finger at a time like some curious spider until finally it found the implement. The snake paused for a moment a few yards from the man and raised its head high to give him a final inspection. Its forked tongue stuck out inquisitively and there almost seemed to be a question within its jewel-like eyes. Slowly it moved forward, satisfied with its estimation of the man.

Not a muscle moved, no expression crossed Allyrion's face. His eyes merely drew narrow for a moment. The snake approached his leg, its gaze fixed on the blood weeping out from the man's side. Suddenly the clasped hand sprung to life and came downwards, piercing through the small creature's head and pinning it into the ground. The creature writhed and flailed about, its tail slapping into the mud with manic movements. Walter watched, transfixed as the life bled out of the snake, amazed by how much strength it had even in its death throes. After a moment the struggles diminished and finally ceased altogether, lying motionless in the mud. Allyrion, with sluggish movement, extracted the blade from the head of the snake and went about picking up the limp body, laid it flat and carefully went about gutting it like a man would a fish. Once his task was completed, he devoured the raw meat like a half-starved dog.

Walter, kneeling in the tall grass, watched all this, every nuance of it, with the most careful attention. Every action that Allyrion had undertaken, the quickness of his hands, the surety in his eyes, had been a display showcasing how alive and aware the man was. For all his injury and exposure to the elements, the man before Walter was still very much alive and with that, still had the capability to be dangerous.

Once his meal was finished Allyrion shifted his position, trying to sit up a little more and cast his wild eyes around. His gaze swept over Walter without so much as a flicker; his leather armour had been covered with mud and in the sharp blacks and whites of the midday sun, Walter was well hidden. With predator's eyes, he watched the man as a small bout of hacking coughs came over him and slowly moved through the long grass as the man struggled to smother the bubbling mucus and blood that burst from his mouth. After moving around to Allyrion's wounded side, he inched closer and closer until he was perhaps only seven paces away. He quietly moved to his knees and took out the short sword he had across his back from its dark sheath, and with his eyes never leaving Allyrion's hands, moved out into the clearing with his blade drawn.

Surprisingly, Allyrion did not seem overly shocked by his presence, nor did he even try to make any movements towards escaping. His eyes simply moved to Walter's figure and fixed themselves there with a level gaze that held no hint of emotion. "So, you finally found me. It only took you a full day."

"A merry chase." Walter replied, without hint of humour within his voice. "But all good things must come to an end," he gestured with his sword, "keep your hands where I can see them."

Allyrion sneered. "Afraid of a dying man?"

Walter looked at him impartially. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Oh?" A single dark brow rose in question. "Then why don't you drop that sword, fight me like a man?"

Silence was his only response.

Allyrion laughed a harsh bark, but carefully. His breathing was much more even, controlled and free of the bloody fits he had suffered just moments earlier. "You really are a coward aren't you? I never met you, I never did anything to you or anyone you care about. I gave an answer to a question, I said 'No'. The alternative would have been war, clearly you see that? Dornish blood would have been spilt by the gallon. You would kill me because I did not wish that?"

Walter Sand examined him carefully. He heard appeals to his morality before, pleas for mercy or some reprieve from the fate that awaited them. It was an annoyance, and one he did not want to prolong. "I would kill you, because I was commanded to do so. That is the entirety of the matter."

"I should have known," his mouth twisted in distaste. "that a madman and a eunuch would not send a true man to do their dirty work. Tell that perfumed bastard and his pet Vulture that I spit on them both from the next life."

"Give me the knife," Walter said, his tone unmoved by Allryion's taunt. "Nice and easy."

Allyrion showed his palms before slowly taking out the dagger. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the knife into the air. The silver of the steel spun like a wheel in the sunshine, glimmering in Walter's eyes for a moment. He stepped back in discomfort to shield, lowering his guard for just a moment. A moment was all Allyrion needed as he sprang to life and tackled Walter into the mud. Walter may have been the healthier of the two, but Allyrion was a larger man and he pressed down with his full weight, another small knife produced from his sleeve. Walter kept up an arm to try and push back whilst the other searched for a grasp on the hilt of his dropped sword. As Allyrion pressed the point of the blade down with renewed strength Walter quickly discarded that notion and changed tactics, taking both hands around his attacker's wrist and trying to twist with all the strength he could muster. The tip of the blade hovered an inch or two above the exposed flesh of his throat. Feeling primal desperation sink in, Walter threw a quick punch into the other man's bleeding side. He repeated the process in quick succession as a bark of pain escaped Allyrion's mouth, forcing him to temporarily ease up on his knife and allow Walter to shift his weight and throw the wounded man off him.

Within an instant he spotted his sword, rolled to it and was up on his feet at once, blade held high in a killing stroke. Allyrion did not seem to notice him, rolling in pain as he was and blabbering a string of insults and curses that meant nothing to the hunter of men. He breathed in deeply, allowing his rage to dissipate and his hands to grow still. He did not want to miss.

"When the Vulture King asks for your loyalty, you do not refuse."

He brought the blade down.

* * *

The world had a strange darkness hanging about. The sky was ink-black and felt as if it was closing in, a pulsing evil that was pressing down on the earth. Ned stood atop a pile of rubble, the vast expanse of desert before him and behind him. He looked down and found himself without a weapon, wearing naught but a pair of old breeches and covered in dust. Soon the rubble turned into a keep, and he was standing tall as its defender. He looked about and saw dozens of men with him, hundreds even, all of whom had joined him in defence of the keep. Yet his joy faded as soon as it had come when the other defenders moved about aimlessly and ineffectually. When Ned shouted to rally them they seemed not to hear him as the darkness pressed in around his little keep. He looked out into the darkness and saw it form the shape of a man, watching him as he watched it. He knew at once that this man-beast was his foe, but to his despair he had no weapons, save for an old longbow like the one he had always struggled with as a boy. Every time he tried to fit the notch of the arrow to the gut his fingers would grow numb and the shaft would slip to the ground. He repeated the action for what seemed like a thousand times, cursing himself as he did. From his spot below, the man-beast took flight and the swarming mass of darkness shifted into the shape of a bird, a screaming and roaring vulture flying up to consume him. Ned threw up an arm to defend himself in some futile attempt to shield his eyes. Painfully, he felt it collide with the wooden table at his bedside and Ned jolted upright to find himself in bed.

It was night, and all was silent save for Ned's heavy breathing as he struggled to remember where he was. For a few moments there was nothing but blind terror, but then reality settled back in place and Ned felt himself breath a little easier. He lay in bed for what seemed like hours, unable to fall back into the embrace of unconsciousness and his thoughts racing. The weight of his conversation with Ulrick troubled him to no end and he silently feared that it would lead him to do things he could not take back or live with. Ned was a soldier; that was how he was educated and that was what he had been trained for his entire life, yet he was being asked to operate in a world that existed outside of that. An ugly world where good and evil were indistinguishable.

He tossed and turned in his bed for a while longer, trying in vain to find some relief before finally giving up and deciding that it was far too hot in his bed one way or another. Donning a pair of breeches and a rough-spun tunic, Ned left his chambers and ventured down through the castle. It was still dark out, yet dawn was quickly approaching and the sky was changing from a dark blue to a warm purple. Most of the household staff were still abed, save for the few guards that paid him no mind. He had no real purpose, but the cool morning breeze and the walk did well to ease his mind of the swirling troubles. Eventually he found himself in a training yard, watching a tiny figure batter at a practice dummy with a wooden sword. The child, a girl, couldn't have been older than 8 or 9 years old and was hacking away at the tall wooden figure with aggression that seemed at odds with her tiny frame.

It was apparent at once that the child was a Dayne; no one else had that same distinct mix of raven hair and purple eyes, and from what little he could see of her face the girl was Ashara writ small. _Allyria,_ the name came back to him at once. Ashara had spoken only a little of her much younger sister, but she had done so with a small upon her lips. The girl, realising she was being watched, turned at once and glared at Ned with a look of utter defiance that he had seen on his own sister.

"Who are you and what are you doing out here?" The girl demanded, holding up her wooden sword. "I command you to tell me at once or I shall strike you down!"

Ned smiled and held up his hands in surrender. "I come in peace my lady," he said, trying his best to keep himself from laughing. "I was just going for a walk and didn't realise that I had intruded on your...training. Forgive me, my name is Eddard Stark."

Allyria kept her defensive stance in place for a moment, but then her eyes widened in surprise and a her face went a shade of red. "You're...Ned? Ashara's Ned?"

"The very same." he said with a soft smile. "You're Lady Allyria aren't you?"

The girl suddenly looked contrite. " I am, yes," she stared at her feet. "Sorry for threatening you, I thought you were one of my brother's friends coming to laugh at me."

" You needn't apologise my lady, this is your home and I should have announced myself." He gestured to the wooden sword. "You know how to wield a sword."

Allyria lifted her chin proudly. "I've been practicing every day. My brother Arthur always says that if you want to be good at anything you have to practice all the time."

"He's a wise man, your brother," Ned replied solemnly.

"Just don't tell _him_ that." The voice came from behind him and Ned spun around to see Ulrick walking into the training yard, flanked by two of his guards. He gave Ned a bemused smile as he approached. "I didn't take you for an early riser, Eddard. Trouble sleeping?"

"Something like that," Ned replied cautiously. " The heat will take some getting used to."

Ulrick nodded sympathetically. "Since you're up we might as well break our fast together." He glanced at Allyria. "I expect you to be dressed and ready for your morning lessons."

"Yes, yes, whatever you say," she said indifferently.

"Allyria," He said with a voice thick with exhaustion. "If I hear from your Septa that you've been shirking your lessons again then there shall be no more swordplay, is that understood?"

The girl stared at him in wide-eyed shock for a moment before bolting off into the keep. Ulrick watched her go, shaking his head. " This is the problem with being the eldest. I have to be the one to doll out of the rules whilst Ashara and Arthur get to swoop in and spoil the child," he frowned, his expression turning to one of reflection. "Indulgence is never a good thing."

Ned gave him a look of inquiry.

"Allyria is more of a daughter to me than a sibling," he explained. "I see it as my duty to raise her in the manner in which my parents would want. She can train in arms, but some day I will have to find her a husband and she will be expected to act as a lady." Ulrick scrunched his eyes and waved the thought away like a bothersome insect. "Bah, it's too early to speak of such things. Come, we'll sup on the balcony."

They walked in comfortable silence up the stairs and through to the table set out on a balcony that overlooked a lovely garden deep in the heart of Starfall. Considering the vast expanse of red that surrounded the castle, the rich green of the garden was startling. There were trees tall enough that they touched the edge of the balcony only a few feet away from where the two men were sitting and they looked to be bearing fruit of some kind.

Ulrick noticed his surprise. "There is an underground spring," he explained. " In the ancient times this place used to be the Godswood of House Dayne, and in the centuries that followed my family has kept its upkeep and taken advantage of the fertile area. Much of the fruit we are about to eat comes from those trees."

"Is there still a Weirwood?" Ned asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice.

The Lord of Starfall gave a vague nod. "There's not much left of it, but there is enough of the old tree to serve should you feel the need the pray."

Two of the servants came and began filling the table with a mixture of fruits, oats and several combs of honey in addition to a jug of milk. Ned was honestly surprised. In Winterfell it was the norm form them to break their fast on bacon and blood sausage, with perhaps a side of eggs. He had never seen so many sweets in one meal before.

"You must forgive me," Ulrick explained to his guest. "I take ridiculous amounts of pleasure in what I eat. As a boy I was once out for a ride with my father, we were caught during the middle of an ugly storm and found ourselves lost in the sands. I walked for ten days without food before we found our way back to friendly lands. I have endeavoured to savour all my meals ever since. This is the one thing in my life I indulge in."

Ned sat back in his chair, watching the man curiously. "How did you survive?"

Ulrick reached out and poured himself a cup of milk. He savoured the taste of it before answering the question. "We rationed our water, but of course such a thing is difficult when you are seven and slowly starving." He looked at Ned gravely. "By the sixth day of our wandering my canteen was empty and my father halved his own meagre supply for me."

"He sounds like a brave man,"Ned replied, more than a little admiration seeping into his voice. He took an apple from a nearby bowl and began to slice it into segments. For a time they sat in silence, eating and enjoying the glow of the morning sun. Yet the more Ned reflected on the story Ulrick told him, the more a notion grew in his mind. Eventually he found himself unable to stop the question that spilled from his mouth. "Ashara never spoke of your father, and now that I think of it she often went out of her way to avoid the subject...do you know anything about that?"

Lord Dayne's chewing slowed to a crawl, then stopped as he swallowed. For a moment it seemed as if he had not heard Ned, looking down at his cutlery before slowly reaching over to take another sip of honeyed milk. He placed the cup back down exactly as he had found it, before his eyes slowly rose up to meet Ned's.

"This is not something you should be asking me about. If Ashara did not speak of our father then I will not subvert her on the matter. Besides," his mouth twitched slightly in what might have been a smile. "You can ask her yourself when she arrives. I've had a raven from her entourage informing me that they've made excellent time. If all goes well they'll be here by nightfall."

Ned couldn't help but smiling at that, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw. "I'll have to clean myself up for her arrival."

Ulrick laughed at the notion and gave him a fond smile. But the expression quickly shifted into something far more piercing. "I will allow you some time to enjoy married life, but you and Ashara will soon be called to Sunspear. When you get to the Martell court...well, I shall have you taught in the ways of whispers soon enough."

"What a charming way to start a day," Ned muttered, rising from his seat. " Excuse me, my lord, I need to work off some stress in the training yard."

The Master at Arms of Starfall was in many ways something of a disappointment to Ned. Unlike his predecessor he had not been able to train any of the Daynes and thus could take no credit in Ser Arthur's famed skill at arms. Even so, Ned took some measure of awe from training in the same place as countless other legendary warriors had in the centuries come and gone. As he worked his anger and frustration out on the practice dummy, Ned felt the time melt away around him, the whole world fading to a dull whisper. When he stopped, he was drenched in sweat and his shoulder numb.

"Gods, Ned!" Robert came into the training yard, grinning. "I think you killed him!"

Ned glanced at the dummy. "You wouldn't know it to look at him."

Robert let out a deep belly laugh at that, red faced and eyes watery. Lord Dayne had, for whatever reason, decided to keep Robert drunk and in the company of beautiful women during the majority of their stay and it was rare that Ned saw him even remotely sober, not once suspecting that his attention was being deliberated redirected. _What is your game here, Ulrick?_

The Baratheon stood for a moment, looking at his feet and kicking at a pebble. To Ned he seemed like a guilty child. "Look Ned, I..." He stopped, chided himself. "Dammit Ned, I've been making a bloody fool of myself...with the women and the drink...don't know how Lord Dayne hasn't kicked me out into the sands yet...but I wanted to apologise."

"Robert, you don't-"

"-No," Robert cut him off. "I know you're too damned honourable to say it, but I've been a terrible friend lately. You've had to face these Dornishmen alone, and...well I just wanted to tell you that you won't have to do that anymore. I'll be sober as a Septon from now, I swear."

Ned laughed at that, but felt a genuine swell of pride for his friend. It was easy to see Robert as a man purely concerned with getting the best out of life, but if there was one thing he valued over his own enjoyment, it was the welfare of his friends. For all his flaws, Ned had never known a better friend.

"You don't need to become a Septon," he replied. "But I would like it if you were sober enough to properly meet Ashara when she arrives."

"Well, that I can do," the big man chuckled, but then cast his gaze about dubiously. "I'll tell you what would help me on that score, is if we went out for a ride or a hunt or something. You know how I get, Ned, I don't like being cooped up all the time."

Ned smirked. "I don't think you'll find many boars to hunt around here."

"But still," Robert insisted. "What if we went out for a ride, see what we can find. If we don't find any game then at the very least we'll get a better look of the land."

The Stark said nothing for a long moment, considering. "Well, Ashara will be here by day's end," he paused at looked at his friend's crestfallen face, "But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to go out and get some fresh air."

The two friends shared a laugh at that and spent the remainder of the day viewing the lands around Starfall guided by several of Ulrick's own guardsmen. The heat was oppressive as always, but was Ned glad to be able to see the common people of Dorne go about their lives, crafting a life amongst what was otherwise an unforgiving land. Ned was careful to watch the interactions between the people and the men of Starfall as some day he would need to ingratiate himself in such a manner if he wanted to have even the slightest hope of winning the hearts of the his new countrymen.

After a time they rode out towards one of the closest of the Red Mountains, eager to see the visual marvel up close even though their Dornish guides obviously thought it to be a childish request. There was something about the towering presence of the mountains that reminded Ned of just how tiny and insignificant he was in comparison to the wonders of the world, a feeling that his father often spoke about when describing the Wall. Before him, the red mountains were stood like copper Giants, the true rulers of the land.

"How far are you wanting to go, my lord?" One of the guides asked Ned from across the saddle. "We can take you right to the heart of the mountains, though I would not advise it with so few men. Bandits and such make homes amongst it."

Robert spoke up before Ned could hope to answer. "We're no cravens! Let's get a damned good look and see if we can't find some game while we're at it."

"My lord," the Dornishman insisted. "You would find little game in these parts. Hares and the like are the best you could hope for."

Ned knew well enough that an argument would break out, and silenced the conversation then and there. "We'll go closer to the mountains," he said, "but not too close. I've no wish to put myself in any danger when Lady Ashara is on her way home."

The guide nodded in agreement, glad to find one foreigner with some sense. "Very good my lord."

The party moved on, travelling at a brisk pace as they crossed the sandy terrain and watching as the mountains grew closer. The Giants caught their gaze and kept it, even the native Dornishmen found themselves transfixed by the majesty. So caught up in the sight of it all that that they did not see the trenches amongst the path at their feet. It was Robert's horse that stumbled, the beast losing its footing and breaking a leg. Only by sheer luck did the Baratheon manage to free himself from the saddle before the creature could fall and crush him.

"Seven Hells!" Growled the Lord of Storm's End. Ned and the others had managed to steer their horses away from the treacherous track of stony earth, yet the screams of pain from Robert's fallen stallion unsettled both men and beast. Taking a deep breath, Robert unsheathed his blade and calmly went over to slit the dying animal's throat. Coated in blood and scowling miserably, he looked half a monster.

"Are you alright, Robert?" Ned called.

He nodded and went about wiping his face. "I really liked that damned horse," he complained miserably. "But damn it all, this bloody trench came out of no where."

One of their guides paused and looked down at the ditch, hunkering down on his haunches and examining the rock very carefully. His mouth was pressed into a thin line as his dark eyes flickered over the scene. He pressed his hand against the side of the trench, almost caressing it like a lover. "The path here has been cut recently and the soil moved," he murmured. "This was dug out."

Ned looked down at the man sharply. "A trap?"

The other man gave him a grim nod. "Bandits are the most likely culprits. We'd do well not to linger; this was done today."

Ned felt a twinge of unease run down his spine. Casting a glance around he could see nothing, save for rocks and sand in most directions and the mountain that stood like a silent giant behind them. All was silent, but for the strong breeze. Above them the sun had gone under a cloud. In fact, everything seemed oddly darker.

The second guide pointed into the distance where the horizon was particularly overcast. There was slight panic in his eyes as he turned to speak. "We can't stay out _here,_ whatever we do, that's a sandstorm coming and we don't want to be out in the open when it hits."

"Will we make it back to the castle?" Robert demanded, looking between the two guides furiously.

The first guide did not look at Robert as he spoke, instead casting his glance at the mounting storm. "I think, not. It's too big to escape in its entirety and we've no shelter," he looked back, directly at Ned this time. "My lord, if we press on to the mountain we could probably reach the caves at the base and wait it out."

Ned nodded his assent, quickly going over to the body of Robert's horse and removing the supplies from the saddle and loading them onto his own. After that they were off as fast as their horses could take them, Ned's poor gelding struggling with the weight of two men. By the time they reached the mountain the wind was blowing so fiercely that it felt like a slap in the face, sand hitting the eyes and mouth with painful intensity. One of the guides signalled for them to follow him deeper into a pathway into the mountain, and they were saved from the worst of it as two walls of rock on either side of them served as a windbreak. Eventually they found a small cave that gave them enough cover to wait out the worst of it and hitch their horses.

The cave was large enough that they could stretch out and provided ample protection from the battering winds outside, yet visibility was low and they had nothing to start a fire with. From what Ned could tell, his two guides weren't looking too pleased with their current predicament, and seemed to be on edge, constantly glancing out at the dark clouds twirling at the mouth of the cave.

"Is there something wrong?" Ned asked, following their gazes. "Will the horses be alright?"

The first of the guides grunted an affirmation. "They've got enough cover by the entrance."

Robert's voice rumbled from his place beside Ned. "How long do these bloody things last?" He shifted uncomfortably in the darkness. "I don't want to spend too long against this damned rock."

"It is like any storm, my lord," the same man replied. "It will pass when it will pass. The best we can do is try to wait it out."

And so that was what they did, passing the time regaling each other with tales from their travels and discussing the Vale. It was apparent to Ned that Robert missed the place and their foster father Jon Arryn just as much as he did, and quietly endeavoured to write to the man when he returned to Starfall. A little over two hours passed when one of the guides hurried to his feet and hesitantly made his way to the entrance of the cave. He came back a moment later giving them a deep nod. "It is over, we should leave."

The four men left the cave and went to find their horses looking somewhat anxious, but otherwise unharmed. Moving at a good pace, they trotted down the path from which they had came, Ned following one of the guides whilst the other rode at a slower pace from having to also carrying Robert's weight as well as his own. Free of the ominous storm clouds and red wall of dust and sand that loomed previously, Ned was able to enjoy the sights of the Red Mountains from so close. He was particularly impressed by unique rock formations that jutted out near the base of the mountain in the far distance. There were six boulders, eroded in such a way by rain and wind that shaped the rocks into dimensions that looked like twelve squat men, standing guard at the base of the mountain, as if Dorne fashioned itself defenders out of the very earth. Ned's smile faded into confusion when he thought he saw one move from its position. A cry cut through the air, and he turned to find the guide that had rode ahead of him fallen from his horse. An arrow jutting from his throat.

In that moment it seemed as if the whole world had shifted into something mad as several of the distant figures peeled away from the stones and began moving in his direction on horseback, several of their arrows filling the air. A voice called out, shattering his momentary daze. "We cannot fight them!" Shouted the sole remaining guide, ignoring Robert sitting behind and looking only to Ned. "They will not dare to move any closer to Lord Dayne's lands! We must ride!"

Ned gave a nod of assent and urged his horse off into the open sands of Dorne, his companions following. They rode like mad, yet when Ned dared to look over his shoulder he could see that some of the bandits were still following, blades drawn and shouting curses from the distance. Worse still was the fact that the other horse was growing tired from having to carry the weight of two people and gallop across the desert at the same time. The animal would tire out soon, and that meant death for the two riders. Seeing one of the bandits begin to close the gap, Ned drew his sword and allowed his horse to slow down, waiting as the other two horses began to catch up. He twisted his body so that he was facing in the direction of the bandit rider, waited until the man drew closer, shut his eyes and muttered a prayer before swinging the blade out with all the strength he could muster with one arm. For a moment he thought he would find only empty air and fall from the saddle, yet his heavy steel blade met something soft and dug in, splattering warmth across his face. Without looking, Ned let the blade go and urged his horse onwards with greater speed. A few arrows whizzed passed, but it seemed that the enemy had otherwise given up on the chase following their comrade's death. The other two men gave him signs of thanks, and they rode on as fast as they could until the dull purple of the setting sun gave way to a dark blue of nightfall.

They dismounted as soon as they were within the castle walls, and not a second after Ned had his feet on the ground did Robert give him a slap on the back. "You saved my bloody life! Gods Ned, I've never seen anything like it!"

His head was throbbing, his own beating heart and heavy breathing filled his ears, and his limbs ached from the hard ride. It took him a long moment before he could process Robert's statement and what exactly had just happened. He felt angry more than relieved. He turned to the guide. "What in the name of the gods was that?' He grit his teeth painfully. "We could have been killed out there!"

"Forgive me, my lord," the man bowed so low that Ned thought his nose was going to hit the ground. "I did not think that the bandit problem had gotten so bad. We never see them amongst the outlying farms and settlements that surround Starfall..."

"I'll be telling Lord Dayne all about this," Ned growled, mind caught somewhere between anger and exhaustion. "Criminals like these cannot be tolerated, not when they put the smallfolk and travellers at risk."

The man bowed again, and then slunk off to take their horses to the stables. Robert lingered and gave Ned a dubious expression, looking him up and down with eyes full of concern. "Are you alright Ned? You look like you're about to be sick."

Ned wiped at his face only for his hand to come away bloody. He took a moment to compose himself and then pushed out a shaky breath. "Aye, Robert. I just need to get myself cleaned up, and ," he feigned a smile that he imagined wouldn't fool a blind man. "You go on ahead, I'll meet up with you."

Giving him another doubtful look, Robert slowly walked off in the direction of the great hall. Ned watched him go, and then walked over the castle armoury. The forge had run cold for the night, but there was some small glowing embers from one of the fires casting off light enough for him to see himself reflected in the trough of water. Blood had been splattered over his face, and the sight of it nearly made him wretch. Splashing the refreshingly cold water over his face and through his hair, he washed as much of the blood off as he could and suddenly felt more exhaustion than he had ever known in his life. Taking a few steps, mostly following his feet, he spotted a nearby bench that was unoccupied and all but collapsed onto it. His mind was a swirl of negative thoughts; how the sunburnt beauty of Dorne belied the danger that seemingly lived beneath the surface of every aspect of life, and how he could never survive in such a world. It was utter misery. Closing his eyes for a moment he drifted into a faint sleep, dreaming incomprehensible noises and indistinct images that disturbed him greatly.

Hours later, he felt a hand on his shoulder begin to shake him gently. He scrunched his eyes shut harder, and tried his best to ignore the world that existed outside of the throbbing in his head. There were words spoken, but he was far too tired to listen.

"Go away," Ned said dully.

A laugh greeted him. "Always such a charmer."

His eyes opened at that and looked up at the owner of the familiar voice. The face was one he recognised. Those breathtaking violet eyes, the knowing expression of confidence that was currently subdued by flushed cheeks and a brilliant smile of excitement. "Ash?"

She slipped in beside him, seized his right hand in her left and squeezed for all its worth. She looked at him with a softening expression and caressed his cheek with her free hand. When she spoke, he could hear the laughter in her voice. "Oh, dear sweet Ned. You do love to get yourself into trouble, don't you?" She leant over and kissed him softly. "But not to worry, you've got me to protect you now."


	4. The Torrentine

**A/N: Big thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

Dawn was a beautiful haze of gold and blue. Ned woke slowly in a large bed, all the muscles in his neck and shoulders aching horribly as he sluggishly sat up. It took him a few moments to emerge from the blurry fog of his dreams into the waking world, the half-forgotten images fading fast from his mind. Slowly he removed himself from the bed and walked out onto the balcony, enjoying the cool morning breeze on his bare chest. He looked down at the servants going about their tasks, smiling and chatting to each other like happy sparrows. _Though sand and snow separate my two homes, at least this much is the same…_

Soft hands slid around his waist and Ashara Dayne put her head to rest on Ned's shoulder. The air around him was filled with her heavenly scent, and as he breathed it in Ned felt his whole body relax. After a long moment she leant forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You're up early," her voice was still husky with sleep. "I would have thought you dead to the world for a few more hours at least."

"Why would I stay asleep?" he mused, a wry grin on his lips. "When I have the most beautiful woman in the world to wake up to?"

There came a soft laugh and she squeezed him tighter. "You've the soul of a bard, Ned. Has my land rubbed off on you already?"

"I can't say I've met too many Dornishmen speaking in lyric," he turned his head around and kissed her softly. Ashara nipped at his bottom lip and he couldn't help but laugh. "Perhaps it is I who has rubbed off on you."

They later descended into the gardens to break their fast on fruits and honey, and it occurred to Ned that the inhabitants of the castle seemed far more comfortable in his presence now. Ashara was undoubtedly the most beloved member of the family and she had apparently announced her qualified approval of him and the household followed her lead. Ned had even heard several of the servants whispering lightly to each other about how nice it was to see their lady settled. Watching her eat in content silence, Ned could tell that she was well and truly within her place in the world. Every moment he had with her felt like a gift,

Ashara caught him staring and gave a teasing laugh. "Oh Ned, there's no hope for you, is there?' A smile danced across her face. "You know, when I first told my brother about us he was worried that you would try to cage me."

"Cage you?"

"I suppose he feared that you might treat me badly," She explained carefully, her tone slow and considerate. "I've grown up with the liberties most women enjoy in Dorne, but by marrying a Northerner it was always possible that I'd be forced into a role of submission."

Ned was silent for a moment, struggling with what to say. "I hope he still doesn't feel that way."

"Oh nothing to worry about on that score," Ashara's purple eyes gleamed in the morning light. "I set him to rights immediately, and nearly tore his head off for suggesting such a thing about you. No," she sat back in her seat and eyed him off, looking incredibly pleased with herself. "I think he's actually quite impressed with you right now."

"I'm glad to have at least one of your brothers in my corner," Ned said lightly. "I suppose the next challenge will be trying to win over Ser Arthur."

Ashara snorted in derision. "Trust me, you've already won your greatest battle when it comes to my family." She pushed out a tired breath. "Ulrick was always the more difficult one of the two. Arthur was raised to believe in the chivalric way of life, Ulrick on the other hand was ever my father's student. Physically he might not be able to kill a room full of men like Arthur, but he'd just as easily talk them into killing each other."

Ned saw the faint signs of bitterness on his love's face, and wondered if he should tell her about Ulrick's offer and the deal they had forged. _No,_ he told himself, dismissing the idea quickly. _She has only just arrived and I have not seen her in so long. We deserve some happiness for a time…_

"I'll admit that I find your brother a hard man to read," Ned agreed, "But it's plain to me that he does care for you, despite whatever differences you might have."

Her purple eyes closed and she nodded tiredly. "I know that," she replied softly. "And I care for him too. I just don't like the sort of man he can be, not after spending so many years at King's Landing and being surrounded with schemers." Her eyes fluttered open after a moment and settled pleasantly on Ned. "But enough of this, I want to show you something once you've done eating."

Ned lifted a brow. "Oh? Is it a surprise?"

"Of a kind," she said. "But if I show it to you, you must be kind to Mors."

"Who's Mors?" Ned asked, suddenly feeling jealous at the thought that he would not be having Ashara to himself.

"Just wait and see," Ashara replied, her tone neutral and an ambiguous smile on her face. She poured herself a glass of juice and nursed the drink for a while after finishing her meal, her eyes never leaving Ned as he went about devouring the remainder of his breakfast. Even when he was done, Ashara did not make to get up until after several minutes, seemingly enjoying how impatient Ned was becoming.

When they finally did finish their meal in the gardens Ashara led them out towards the tower Palestone Sword, stopping briefly to speak with one of the servants before sending the man off in a hurry. To Ned's surprise they walked out the back of the keep through the gate that led to the Torrentine, where the servant and a small row boat were waiting for them at the water's edge. Ned looked at Ashara with an unspoken question, but was only met with another ambiguous smile as she led him by hand over into the small vessel. Ashara climbed into the boat and settled herself between Ned's outstretched legs.

"There's a small island just a little further down," Ashara explained, pointing vaguely. "That is our destination, if you don't mind."

Ned laughed a little, but otherwise took the oars in hand without complaint and began the task of rowing them out into the Torrentine. By the time they had come upon the small island which Ashara spoke, the sweat was pouring down Ned's face and chest.

The Island itself was not especially large; really more of a long stretch of dirt surrounded by a collection of mangroves and foreign looking trees, but there was clear evidence of previous habitation. They beached, and Ashara practically skipped up towards the trees as Ned slowly followed, rubbing life back into his arms and shoulders. Together they followed a well-worn track in the ground through the thick mass of vegetation until they come to what felt like the heart of the island, a large tree that would not have looked out of place in the Godswood at Winterfell.

"You see this, Ned?" Ashara asked in a huffing breath, patting the trunk. "My brothers and I, we used to come here as children and play. Look here," she drew him close and ran her fingers over a series of patterns carved into the wood. Ned found them vaguely familiar. "We never knew who cut these, or what they mean," she explained, "but we used to think the Children of the Forest lived here, long ago."

Ned couldn't help but grin. "I think you'd get on well with Old Nan."

Ashara eyes flashed in amusement before she cast her gaze up into the tree. She gave a peculiar whistle, waited a few moments, and whistled again. Above them something stirred itself from the branches and down came one of most brightly coloured birds Ned had ever seen. Ashara beamed as the surprisingly large bird landed on the branch closest to them where it perched majestically and proceeded to preen itself. Getting a better look, Ned thought it to be some kind of eagle.

"This is Mors," Ashara explained. "Arthur and I found him as a chick, almost ten years ago during one of our explorations. His mother was gone and his nest had fallen from the tree, so we took him back to the castle with us, kept him warm and fed him until he was big enough to fly. He lives here now, eating fish from the river and what mice live among the growth. I've made sure that the servants come by to bring him food and check on him when I am not in the castle."

Without the slightest care, Ashara fished out a small piece of meat she had kept in her kerchief and held it out to the large bird. The creature watched her with a sort of animalistic nobility and took the piece from her hand, tossing back its head a swallowing it whole. To Ned's astonishment, Ashara reached out and began to stroke the feathers of its head and down its neck, at the same time cooing to the bird with the softest voice.

"Why name him Mors?" Ned asked after a moment. "It seems an odd name for a bird of all creatures."

Ashara shrugged. "It was Ulrick who named him; he was always fond of history. Besides, Mors is a common enough name here in Dorne." She smiled, continuing to pet the creature. "I would hope that someday _our_ children could come here and play as I did with my siblings."

Ned remembered his own time as a boy, playing with wooden swords in the Godswood with Benjen and Lyanna. It broke his heart to think that his own children would never know that same experience, but he took comfort in the thought that perhaps it would not be so different in his new Dornish home. _Mayhaps the wolves can thrive in this foreign land._

It was well past midday when they returned to Starfall, Ned's hands and shoulders sore from rowing and the beginnings of sunburn forming, but he was rewarded from time to time with a smile from Ashara as she watched him work. When they finally beached she kissed him with a sudden ferocity that almost toppled him. Afterwards, as they entered the castle hand-in-hand, it occurred to him that he had never felt so deliriously happy.

At nightfall they all supped together in Ulrick's chambers, enjoying a feast of which they hadn't known for quite a while. Robert even managed to join them, his dark beard neatly trimmed and dressed in some of the finest pieces of clothing Ned had ever seen on him. Indeed, it was also the most sober he had seen Robert in months and silently he felt immensely proud of his friend for making the effort.

"You're looking rather well, Robert." Ashara noted, giving him a polite smile. "Dorne must agree with you."

The Baratheon gave a booming laugh. "My lady, I think Dorne agrees with everyone." He nudged Ned hard in the sides. "I've never seen Ned smile so much. It's only been a few days, and barely a grimace!"

"It's been good to see love return within these walls," Ulrick said, suddenly stirring himself from his place at the head of the table. "House Dayne could use some more happiness."

Robert gave a bemused smile at that. "Why have you not yet taken a wife, Lord Dayne?" he scratched at his beard thoughtfully. "Surely there isn't a shortage of beautiful girls around."

"I was betrothed once," Ulrick said, so softly. "She died."

Ned could feel the unease settling in the chamber, the quiet growing larger and strangling the mood as Robert stumbled for words. He tried to desperately think of something he could say that would break the tension, but Ashara was already a step ahead. "Have you given any thought about possible matches for Allyria?"

The Lord of Starfall looked at his sister for a long moment before giving a slow nod. "Aye, I've made a few enquiries." He took a sip of water before speaking again. "If I follow our father's wishes, then a match might be made between her and Prince Doran's son."

"But Quentyn is barely two years old," Ashara said, aghast. "Allyria will be a woman grown by the time they are wed, how can you expect her to find love in such a match?"

"I don't," he replied bluntly. "But that is why I have not made any serious enquiries. Father wanted a marriage between us and the Martells, but father is dead." He shrugged, as if it were only a passing matter. "Honestly I've half a mind to follow your example and seek a marriage for her outside of Dorne, perhaps to one of the Marcher Lords."

Robert returned to life at the mention of his bannermen. "Which ones did you have in mind?"

"Lord Dondarrion seemed the most receptive, and his heir is of an age with Allyria."

"Manfred is a good man," Robert agreed with a startling enthusiasm. "The man knows how to joust, let me tell you. Broke three lances against him, but he wouldn't go down! Gods it was a good day!"

Ulrick gave a thin smile. "I am glad that you can speak for the man's character," he began to slowly cut into the honeyed lamb on his plate. "Do you think Lord Dondarrion would be willing to travel to Dorne?" he took a small bite, swallowed, "I think we should invite him to the wedding, so that I might get a better sense of the man."

Ashara frowned in confusion and Ned felt much the same, but Robert, oblivious as ever, spoke enthusiastically before the others had time to think. "I'm sure he'll come, hell, I'll even ask him to come myself!" he grinned at the others. "I could have most of the Marcher Lords come if you wanted."

"The more the merrier," Ulrick said, an unreadable expression on his face. "We might make a real event of it, and show the rest of the realm that Dorne is ready to become more involved." He looked pointedly at his sister. "Princess Elia might even be able to attend, don't you think sister? You are so close, after all."

Ned wasn't sure what was going on exactly, but it was clear that the two Dayne siblings were playing some sort of game with each other. The look Ashara gave her brother was icy, yet her voice remained neutral. "It is your castle, brother. If you wish to spend the extra coin and make the wedding more lavish than it needs to be, then that is your business."

There was a moment of unreadable tension between the siblings, but after a time it gave way to a more peaceful atmosphere and Robert took over conversation, talking of how he found the Dornish horses compared to the ones he and Ned had rode back in the Vale, and of the spiciness of the food. Ned himself fell into a relaxed mood, keeping up the banter with his old friend, entertaining his guests with tales of their time with Jon Arryn. Ashara seemed to forget whatever hostility she felt and sat with her eyes glued to Ned and Robert, occasionally throwing in a bawdy comment or two making them laugh in turn. Somehow the night was salvaged, and when their feast was finished they were all red faced with laughter.

Eventually the hour grew late and Ashara begged off to bed, leaving Ned with a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth before retreating to her rooms. Robert stayed up a little longer, starting to enjoy the wine, but after a time he too reached a limit and went off in search of a servant girl to lay with, leaving Ned at the mercy of Ulrick.

"I think you upset Ashara tonight," Ned told him, feeling immensely uncomfortable. "You should have spoken to her before you decided on all of these new arrangements."

Ulrick turned his purple eyes on Ned. "I understand your concerns for Ashara," he said quietly. "But I am playing a far greater game than you or her. With your friend Robert inviting half the lords of the Stormlands and Ashara's connection to Princess Elia, I just might be able to gain more allies in this contest being played by the Vulture King. Besides," Ulrick's gaze narrowed. "It will give you some needed practice to help you intermingle with the upper echelon of the Dornish court. Certainly one of the Martell brothers would be inclined to come to such a lavish event, especially if Elia deigned to make an appearance."

"But this is a wedding," Ned insisted. "I'm going to take Ashara as my bride and pledge my love to her in the sight of Gods and men."

"Some of those men will be important people," Ulrick said, his voice firm. "Think of it as a test. You shall be marrying the daughter of one of the most powerful houses in all of Dorne, and what better way to prove to your worth as her husband. All I ask is that you get to know the lords and ladies that attend and impress them if you can; endear yourself to them. Show all of Dorne that the second son of some Northern Lord is worthy of Ashara Dayne."

The words struck deeply and cut right to the heart of Ned's insecurities. He nodded heavily at the Lord of Starfall, feeling incredibly uneasy. "It might be as you say, but I will have to speak to Ashara about all of this," he rubbed at his eyes in exhaustion. "I've kept this a secret for far too long."

"You will not speak to her before I do," Ulrick warned him. "When you are married, then I shall sit her down and tell her of what I have recruited you for and the threat all of Dorne faces, but not a moment sooner." His eyes were two chips of purple ice. "You will _not_ speak of this before then, is that clear, Eddard?"

Ned clenched his teeth and struggled to contain himself. There were so many things he wanted to say, but there was clearly no use in arguing the point further and he knew all too well that his entire life in Starfall existed entirely on Ulrick's forbearance. He gave a reluctant nod, but otherwise remained silent.

"Put all of this out of your mind for a while," Ulrick said, visibly relaxing in his seat. "My sister has returned and I am sure that you've missed her a great deal. Enjoy having your love so close," his mouth tugged at the corners. "Not everyone is as lucky as you."

The Stark exhaled slowly and made to stand. "Will that be all, my lord?"

"I was going to ask you about possibly sending a raven to Jon Arryn," said Ulrick. "I want to speak with the man face to face so that I might-" he broke off when a knock came at the door, followed by the Maester letting himself and shuffling over to Ulrick's side.

"We've just had a raven from Sunspear," the old man told him. "I thought it prudent that you see it immediately, my lord."

Ulrick frowned at the letter, and Ned could see the orange wax on the seal. "Thank you, Maester Henryk. That will be all."

The Lord of Starfall broke the seal and silently read the letter, his purple eyes narrowing as they flicked down the parchment and his jaw clenched so hard that Ned thought his teeth might break. After a long moment he put the letter down, slightly crunched in his hand, and let out a deep breath. His eyes fell on Ned. "I fear that any relaxation will have to be put on hold."

"What is it?" Ned asked.

"Word from Sunspear," Ulrick's face twisted into something ugly. "The Princess of Dorne is dead, and an attempt has been made on Prince Doran's life."


End file.
